emerald ink
by what a lovely way to burn
Summary: — hermione finds a journal in the muggle bookshop. there's just one little thing. it writes back.
1. chapter one

_**author's notes:** my first __multi-chap! i'm excited. i've had this idea rattling around in my head for a while now, so i decided, 'what the heck?'_

 _i unfortunately have a life outside of fanfiction, so_ _this will not be updated fast and the chapters will most likely be no longer than seven-hundred words. at any rate, i hope you enjoy._

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 **emerald ink:** **chapter one**

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Hermione found the journal at a Muggle bookshop. It was thick, with pages of rich cream-coloured paper, and covered with soft brown leather. It even came with a gold-feathered quill and a pot of emerald green ink that reminded her of the Wizarding world.

The world she had left behind.

After the war, Hermione Granger, First Class Order of Merlin recipient, brightest witch the Wizarding world had seen since Helena Ravenclaw, sidekick to Harry Potter, had left. Quit. She'd had enough of the Wizarding world, she told the _Daily Prophet_ in no uncertain terms, and she was leaving. She was going to buy a little house somewhere in the Muggle world — she didn't share where, precisely, as she knew that if she did the information would travel far and wide. As she had played a large part in the war, there were still many people who sided with the old ways and who would do anything to capture and kill her.

And so she left. Packed up her things and moved out early in the morning. She hadn't even told her best friends where she was going because that would be like painting it across the sky. Her friends couldn't keep a secret worth shit.

She wrote that fact — about her friends unable to keep a secret — down in her journal, the righthand corner of the page titled _12 August, 1999_. It wasn't until the next week that she flipped to the following page to write about her horrendous day and shrieked when she saw handwriting that was clearly not hers scrawled on the creamy page.

 _There must be some sort of handbook for friends. The first rule: "be physically unable to keep a secret."_

If not for the fact that this was most certainly not a normal occurence in the Muggle world, Hermione would have laughed. But since it was suspicious — this was exactly what had happened to Ginny, after all! — she immediately pulled her wand and cast Auror level detection charms on the journal. Nothing. Frowning, she sat down at her desk and dipped her quill in the little potbellied jar of ink, writing on the next page, _I was unaware that journals wrote back._ She deliberately left out the fact that she was a witch, though the other writer most likely also was a witch or wizard. That or the poor, unsuspecting Muggle had either stumbled upon a linked journal or had been trapped inside the one Hermione'd bought.

The reply came faster than she expected: _I was unaware that anyone had the matching journal to mine_.

Ah. So there was a linked journal somewhere out there. Hermione's lips tipped up. This was going to be an interesting mystery to solve.


	2. chapter two

**emerald ink: chapter two**

From then on, Hermione and her journal became practically inseparable. She didn't dare taking it out of the house for fear of forgetting it somewhere a Muggle could find it, so she kept it under her pillow whenever she wasn't conversing with the owner of the journal's twin.

She learned a few vague facts about them: they were male and they were British. That didn't help her much. It could be anyone. She suspected they were a wizard, but they couldn't outright say that when, for all they knew, she could be anyone. She hadn't managed to pull a name out of him — though it wasn't for lack of trying!

One night, a week or so after the first message from the other journal owner, she was lounging on her sofa, half reading, half watching T.V., when her wand buzzed. She'd cast a charm on the journal that connected to her wand, alerting her when the mysterious man wrote. She flipped it open.

 _I hope you don't mind my rant. Just...how_ dare _he?!_ The ink was bold; the handwriting sloppy and rushed. _I've been waiting_ two months _to get Mother on this new medication that might actually_ help _her, and the fucking idiot wouldn't sell it to me!_

Hermione grabbed her pen. _Why not?_ she asked him. Maybe she could get some more information.

Of course, he clammed up. _I'm not all that reputable,_ came his answer a few minutes later. Hermione sighed and pursed her lips.

 _Why not?_ she scribbled again.

 _Let's just say I chose the wrong side_.

Wrong side? In the Wizarding war?

Was he a Death Eater?

 _Wrong side in what?_ Hermione sat back and watched the ink dry on the paper. No response. No response.

Finally, he wrote, _In a fight_.

Okay, he was being very unhelpful. Should she just come out and ask? No, she decided. Best to wait and see whether he told her.

 _I see_ , she wrote. _You don't have to tell me...yet. I expect answers sometime_.

 _Fine. Eventually. Maybe. What should we talk about instead?_

 _What's your name?_

 _Ha. Like I'm going to tell you that?_

Hermione groaned and thunked her head against the arm of the couch. _Okay, Mr. Secretive. How old are you?_

 _Twenty-one. You?_

 _Same._

That meant, if he was a wizard, he would have been in her year. She knew he was British, so it was unlikely he'd attended one of the other Wizarding schools. Oh, goodness, could she remember all the guys in her year at Hogwarts?

She grabbed another piece of paper and started listing every male she remembered.


End file.
